


The Traitor

by danrad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danrad/pseuds/danrad
Summary: Peter Pettigrew attempts to capture Harry before he has a chance to attend Hogwarts. This changes everything. This is Harry Potter like you've never seen him before. You think you know the story - think again.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

As he rounded the bend, Peters nose twitched. He was close. For the past twelve days, Peter had made his way from Ottery St. Catchpole, throughout the sewers of England into Surrey. It hadn't been easy. Sure, as a rat, he was able to scurry around unnoticed, and had an iron stomach, which was helpful as all he had eaten on his journey was rotten scraps of meat and vegetables. But he had given up so much. A life of (relative) luxury. A warm bed, freshly cooked scraps off plates and a kind carer. He really owed Percy. Not only for snatching him out of his twin brothers hands (Merlin knows how long he would have survived under Fred and George's care) but also for really loving him. Peter hadn't known love in a long, long time. Definitely since before, well, before James and Lily died. He shook his head, he didn't have time to dwell on the past.

Peter continued on his path, occasionally craning his neck to read the street signs well above. He counted his lucky stars that Lily had insisted he, Sirius and Remus accompanied her and James to her sisters wedding. It had been an awful affair, Lily's sister and her new in-laws were stuffy to say the least. It only lived up when James and Sirius had spiked the communal punch with their own concoction of Firewhiskey, Rum and Gin. Oh, Merlin, had he suffered the hangover of all hangovers that week. Lily wouldn't speak to James or Sirius for over a week, and poor Remus, who, unlike a full human, felt no ill-effects from the night, spent his time nursing three very stupid young men back to health. Cursing himself for going down such a dangerous thought path, Peter sped up.

~

Harry Potter lay in bed in his cupboard under the stairs. He could hear the TV blaring the evening news, interspersed with his Uncle's snide remarks about the "state of the world" and his Aunts hums of approval. He rolled over, sighing as his bed creaked almost as loudly as the TV. He hoped he dreamt of the flying motorbike again. It was his favourite dream. It was almost surreal, how exceedingly real that dream felt. It almost felt like a memory, but, of course, flying motorbikes don't exist. So it couldn't be a memory. Unfortunately. Harry wished with all he had that the flying motorbike would turn up and whoever was riding it would take him away forever. That wish, Harry had used every single birthday for as long as he could remember. Regrettably, wishes only came true when you blew our birthday candles (according to his cousin Dudley) and Harry had never had a birthday cake, let alone candles. Yesterday was Harry's 9th birthday, not that anyone would have known. He had managed a thirty minute walk outside without Dudley bothering him, but the price he paid for leaving the garden while he was meant to be working. A frying pan to the arm and back and being locked in his cupboard for the foreseeable future ensured Harry wouldn't try that again.

He shifted in bed again, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position that didn't aggravate his bruised arm and back.

Suddenly, many things happened at once. The power went out, his Uncle bellowed, "WHO DID THIS? BOY!" And Harry felt the hairs all over his body stand on end.

~

Peter scurried down Privet Drive, sniffing the air. Whilst he had been here over a decade ago, all the houses looked the same. He couldn't remember the exact address. He stopped in each garden, trying to find that scent he hadn't smelt in 8 years. Finally, at the other end of the Drive, he found it. He had found Harry Potter. Oh! How pleased his Master would be when he learnt of Peter's greatest ever accomplishment. Finishing what his Master had started.

He edged closer to the front door of number 4. As he approached the doorstep, he felt something. Something that shouldn't be there. He felt a pull of magic and, without warning, he was bound and stunned, right there on the doorstep 

~

Albus Dumbeldore felt an alarming tingle run throughout his body. Without so much as a backwards glance to poor Professor Flitwick, he was running, up the stairs in to his office.

"Who?" He asked, as he picked up a gold and brass instrument from a shelf, "Harry."

He put back the instrument and turned to Fawkes.

"Please, Old Friend. Take me to him" and in a plume of flames, Dumbledore left the office.


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore and Fawkes reappeared in a flash of fire. Letting go of the Phoenix, Dumbledore surveyed the area. Fawkes had delivered him to a secluded area at the top of Privet Drive. It was too early to use his deluminator and, unfortunately his robes today were pale pink and green, not very conspicuous. Transfiguring his robes into a muggle suit, complete with top hat, he walked purposefully down the Drive to Number 4. He stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the Dursley residence.   
There, lying on the ground, bound and stunned, was Peter Pettigrew. Thought to be dead Peter Pettigrew. The reason Sirius Black lives in Azkaban Peter Pettigrew.   
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore checked the rest of the wards he ha put up. Peter should not have been able to make it to the front porch. If the wards were functioning at full capacity, Peter would not have made it past the corner of Privet Drive. With one eye on Peter, he read the results of the wards. Then, he read them again, to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake.The wards were weakening. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Dumbledore began making a to do list in his head. Firstly, he had to ensure Peter could not escape. He then needed to check in on the Dursely’s. There was no reason for the wards to be weakening. Finally, he needed to question Peter. Checking the first item off in his head, he transfigured Peter into a small wooden ball and pocketed him. With Peter taken care of, if only for the interim, he stood back and surveyed the house. It was immaculately presented, not a blade of grass out of place. Someone had done a marvellous job tending to the roses, and the cars in the driveway were shining they were so clean. Turning his head up and down the street, he noticed that, while nicely maintained, not one other house was up to the same standard as Number 4.   
He walked the few steps it took to take him back to the front of the house, and knocked three times on the door. He could hear heavy movement coming from inside the house. “Bloody better not be another religious freak,” he heard a man mutter before the door was opened. The large man who stood in the doorway, panting slightly from the walk, began to very quickly turn an ugly shade of purple.   
“Mister Dursely, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I need to speak with you and your wife” Dumbledore said, holding out his hand. The large man looked at his hand, then up to his top hat, his eyes squinted. He continued to stare at Dumbledore for several seconds, before another voice from inside the house came drifting up the the front door, “Vernon, Vernon who is it?”   
Vernon seemed unable to speak, still staring at Dumbledore, changing colours from purple to red and back so frequently it could not be healthy, so Dumbledore did it for him. “Mrs. Dursley, it’s Albus Dumbledore. I presume I do not need to introduce myself further. I need to speak to you and your husband, quite urgently it seems.” Silence followed his words, before Vernon found his voice.   
“Leave. Leave now,” he whispered, in a dangerous tone.   
Dumbledore shook his head, “I am quite sorry, but I cannot. I need to speak to you and your wife.”  
“You promised us! You promised we would not hear from you, so long as we took in the boy, fed and clothed him. Now leave,” Vernon said, his voice raising.   
Sighing, Dumbledore pulled out his wand. “I really, really do not like doing this, Mister Dursley, but if you do not allow me entry, I will have to force my way in.”  
Wordlessly, his eyes now as wide as saucers, staring only at Dumbledore’s wand, Vernon moved aside. Pocketing his wand, Dumbledore gracefully stepped over the threshold into Number 4. 

~

Harry lay awake in his bed, in the cupboard under the stairs. He had heard his Aunt Petunia calling out from the sitting room, and nothing since. That was strange, he thought, as he again rolled over in an attempt to avoid sleeping on his hurt side. He bed let out a large squeak as he did so.  
“What was that?” He heard a new voice ask.  
“Nothing, probably a rat” his Uncle said, sounding oddly robotic.  
A short and quiet tap on his door let him know that he was to stay deathly silent. If he didn’t, there would be “hell to pay” as he had learned at a young age.   
Sighing again to himself, Harry focused on listening to whatever snatches of conversation he could overhear.

Vernon led Dumbeldore into the sitting room, making note, even in his fearful stupor, to shut the door leading to the hallway. It would not do for Dudley or Harry to overhear this conversation. When he turned around, he saw Dumbeldore sitting on the edge of the sofa, his top hat placed next to him. A top hat, honestly. Petunia was sat in one of the armchairs, with the TV on mute, playing the days news still. The power must’ve come back on, he thought to himself.  
“Make this quick,” Petunia said, in a brisk voice.   
Dumbledore blinked slowly, and let out a long breath. “Mr Dursley, Mrs Dursley, I don’t quite know where to begin.”  
“At the start, usually” said Vernon gruffly. He was standing between right at the sitting room door, blocking the entrance.  
“Quite right, quite right. Only fifteen minutes ago, I received a warning that somebody who meant harm to Mister Potter had made it to your front door.”  
“Nobody but you has been near that door all night!” Vernon yelled, forgetting to keep his voice down. How preposterous!   
“I can assure you, there was somebody. Somebody long thought dead,” said Dumbledore, taking out a wooden ball from his pocket.  
“What’s that?” Squeaked Petunia, eyeing the ball fearfully.   
“This is Peter Pettigrew. He had attempted to make his way into your home. The wards kicked in at the front doorstep and he was stunned and bound. I was alerted immediately and came straight here. A simple transfiguration to hold him easily until I can question him is why he is like, well this.”  
“You’re monitoring our house?” Vernon asked nervously.   
“Not the house, no, just the exterior. Anybody who meant to harm Mister Potter would find themselves as Mister Pettigrew did. Bound and stunned. However, he should not have been able to get that close. The wards, when first laid, would have stopped Peter, or anyone else with harmful intentions, from even entering Privet Drive. I was naturally quite alarmed and felt a discussion regarding the potential causes would be beneficial.”  
The Dursley’s looked at each other.   
“How would we know? You’re the one who laid the wards,” Petunia said coldly.  
“Quite right, a natural assumption, however, I can sense Mister Potter’s presence in the house, and as long as he called Number 4 home, there should never been an issue. So, I’m wondering, would he call Number 4 home?”  
“Of course he would. Where else would it be?” Vernon asked, taking special care to keep his voice measured.   
“A very astute question. One I am sure you both would struggle to answer. Would I be able to perhaps, question Mister Potter?”  
“Absolutely not. Out of the question,” Vernon said, his voice rising without him noticing.  
Dumbeldore surveyed the room. Petunia had a nervous expression on her face, although she was trying to mask it, and Vernon had gone beet red from anger.   
“I really must insist,” Dumbeldore said, getting to his feet.  
“He’s asleep. Both him and Dudders. You can’t wake them.”  
“It’s just gone 8, I’m sure he’ll be awake, probably reading if he’s anything like his mother, as you know, Petunia,” Dumbledore said with a light chuckle. He moved towards the door Vernon was guarding.   
“No, you cannot go barging around other people’s houses. Have some decency!” Vernon finally snapped, yelling at Dumbledore.  
“Now, Mister Dursley, there’s no need for such anger. I merely need to find out why the wards are failing. You want your family to be safe, don’t you Mister Dursley?”  
Vernon and Petunia seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other. While Vernon was distracted, Dumbledore sidled past and entered the hallway.  
“Now, which way is Harry’s room?” He asked the couple who were still in the sitting room.

~

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. This stranger was asking about his room! Should he make himself known? No, he would stay silent, Uncle Vernon would make him pay if he even squeaked right now. 

~

Dumbeldore began approaching the stairs. “I assume all bedrooms are up here?” He called down to the Dursely’s. Petunia nodded, tears in her eyes.   
He took the stairs one by one, not wanting to give Vernon anything else to complain about. If Harry was asleep, he would come back tomorrow. But, more often than not, 9 year olds are rarely asleep at such an early hour.   
He opened the first door he came across, and saw a large bed with a floral cover. Must be the Master bedroom, he thought as he closed the door. The next bedroom was across the hallway, and in it was a smaller but still large bed, with a smaller, but still large version of Vernon sitting up, playing a game in his hand.   
“Who’re you?” Asked the boy, rudely.  
“Hello, my name is Albus Dumbledore, I presume you’re Dudley?”  
Dudley snorted, probably at Albus’s name.  
“So what if I am, whatcha want?”  
“Could you please let me know which room is your cousin Harry’s?”  
Behind him, Dumbeldore could sense Petunia shaking her head at Dudley. The two had finally made it up the stairs.   
“Petunia, I will find out one way or another.”  
Dudley gulped, putting down his hand held game. “Why do you wanna know?” He asked, looking from Dumbledore to his mother and back.  
“I merely wish to ask him a few questions.”  
Dudley pointed downwards.   
“Mister Potter is under your bed?” Dumbledore asked.   
“N-no, he’s under the stairs.”  
“Under the stairs?” Dumbledore asked, his voice becoming cold.  
Vernon seemed to have ad enough of this discussion.  
“Yes, the boy sleeps under the stairs. He likes it there. He says it makes him feel cosy.”  
Without a word, Dumbeldore apparated to the door under the stars.  
“MUM! THE MAN JUST DISAPPEARED!” Dudley yelled, jumping out of his bed and running to her. 

~

Harry heard a crack outside his door. His cousin was yelling something, probably upset he lost a level on his GameBoy. Harry rolled his eyes but lay perfectly still.  
Outside his room, he could hear the lock being opened. He bit his lip. What was he meant to do? His Aunt and Uncle were constantly telling him to never tell a soul where he slept, but it seemed like the stranger was still here. At least, he hadn’t heard him leave.   
The door opened and Harry took a few minutes to adjust to the light. Blinking, he saw a man with a remarkable beard, smiling at him.  
“Hello, Harry,” the man said.  
“H-H-Hello,” Harry croaked. He hadn’t used his voice in over a day and he needed a glass of water.   
“Would you like some water?” The man offered, holding a glass that, unless Harry was really losing it, was not there just before.   
His thirst overcame his fear and he nodded, taking the water and gulping greedily.   
“Drink as much as you need,” the kind man said.   
The glass, which wasn’t very big, kept producing water. It was amazing!  
“Who are you?” Harry asked, when he had finally drank his fill.  
Smiling kindly, the man introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.  
“Hogwarts?” Harry asked, his head turned to the side.   
Mister Dumbledore’s kind face turned very ugly, very quickly.   
“Mister Potter. Could you please meet me and your Aunt and Uncle in the sitting room in two minutes? We can discuss everything there.”  
Harry nodded, rather intimidated by the man’s sudden change. The man left his room and Harry begun counting up to one hundred and twenty. He was quite proud, knowing how many seconds were in a minute.  
He stood up gingerly and slowly hobbled into the sitting room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion

Albus Dumbledore prided himself on his fair and measured way of assessing situations. He was not one to jump to conclusions. Listening to and evaluating both sides of a debate before coming to a measured conclusion was his only way of dealing with any situation. This situation, however, was spinning out of control at an alarming rate.  
He turned and looked at the two Dursley’s who were seating on the sofa, both pale, not looking at each other. He paced in front of them as he awaited Harry’s arrival. As if summoned by thought, Harry walked gingerly into the sitting room, exactly two minutes after being asked. He stood in the doorway, eyeing his Uncle and Aunt nervously.  
Smiling at him, Dumbledore asked Harry to take a seat in one of the unoccupied armchairs, while he himself did the same. He watched all of Harry’s movements, from his wince as he moved to the grimace that crossed his face when he sat down.  
Silence followed their movements. In this time, Dumbledore could see Vernon eyeing his nephew wordlessly, attempting to convey a message of sorts. The problem was, Harry was looking down at his bare feet, not making eye contact with anybody in the room.  
“Mister Potter, Harry, if I may,” Dumbledore begun and Harry looked up. He nodded slowly at Dumbledore. “Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts.”  
Harry stared at Dumbledore, as oblivious to Hogwarts existence as before.  
“I was also a good friend of your parents,” he added, and noticed how Harry’s face went from confused to excited and hopeful. Petunia went to say something but Dumbledore cut her off with a look, making a show of reaching into his pocket, reminding her, he was in charge.  
“My parents?” Harry asked, confused as to how this very old man would’ve known his parents.  
“Yes, they were both students at my school not too long ago. They were wonderful people. You look like your Father, James, but your eyes, they’re all your Mother’s” he said, smiling again at Harry. Harry shifted in his seat with difficulty, but sat up straighter than before.  
“Hogwarts is a school for very gifted people. A gift, in fact, one has from birth. In two years time, I daresay you’ll receive your letter of acceptance.”  
“Me? I’m not gifted” Harry responded, the confusion returning to his face. Vernon snorted as if in agreement, but hushed quickly after a slight elbow from Petunia.  
“I’ll have to disagree, Harry. You see, you, are a wizard.” He let his statement hang in the air. Harry’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again, without any sound escaping. A thud from outside the sitting room window caused them all to jump. Seconds later, Dudley Dursley pocked his head around the door. “He’s a wizard?” He asked, doubt written all over his face.  
“Dudley! Get back to your room,” Petunia hissed.  
“If Harry gets to stay so do I,” he said, entering the room.  
Dudley walked up to the armchair Harry was sitting in and kicked the base. “Get up, I wanna sit down” he said.  
Harry shrunk into his seat, the confidence he had received after hearing about his parents evaporating in a second.  
“Mister Dursley, please refrain from kicking the chair, lest you do yourself an injury. You can sit here, I will stand” Dumbledore said, beginning to understand the dynamics of the house better with each passing moment.  
Dudley shuffled over the the now vacated seat and sat down, puffing slightly from the excursion of it all.  
“If I may continue, Harry, you are a wizard. Your Mother was a witch and your father, a wizard also. I too, am a wizard.”  
“Am I?” Dudley asked, looking at his parents for confirmation.  
“No,” Petunia snapped, “and thank goodness. You are normal, my Didikins, he’s a freak” she spat the last words at Harry.  
“Petunia, cease at once!” Dumbledore bellowed. Cowed, Petunia shrank into Vernon on the sofa, silent once more.  
“I’m a wizard?” Harry asked, finally finding his voice.  
“Correct. Harry, could you please come and stand in front of me? I would like, with your permission of course, to perform some magic on you. Hopefully that will alleviate any doubts you may have.”  
Harry nodded, excited at the prospect of having magic performed on himself. He stood, wincing again as his arm and back flared in pain. He slowly walked towards Dumbledore and looked up at him.  
“Could you please remove your nightshirt, Harry, so I may look at the injury?”  
Deliberately not looking at his Aunt and Uncle, Harry pulled off his shirt, unable to stop the cry that escaped his mouth as he moved his shoulder upwards. He stood then, shirtless, looking at the ugly bruise that covered his arm and shoulder. His arm had swollen to twice it’s usually size and was red in the areas there was no bruise.  
Dumbledore himself looked at Harry, then at the Dursley’s who whimpered.  
“Harry, could you please explain to me how you received these injuries?”  
Harry nodded, but before he could speak, Dudley interrupted.  
“He skived off from his chores yesterday, so Mum whacked him good with the pan, twice!” He said, looking at his Mum with a hint of admiration.  
Petunia closed her eyes, whiter than what should be humanly possible.  
Dumbledore turned his eyes squarely on Petunia.  
“Is this true?”  
She nodded, “He knows better than to wander the neighbourhood! He was meant to be gardening, not waltzing around! I did what I had to do to ensure he never did that again,” she yelled, turning very ugly, very fast.  
Harry was shivering slightly, despite the warm temperature.  
“My apologies, Harry. Now, I am going to perform a simple diagnostic charm to ensure I know where to heal. Is this okay?” Harry nodded. Taking out his wand, Dumbledore waved it in a complicated pattern, muttering to himself.  
“You have a broken elbow, shoulder and collarbone. Luckily, it’s fresh and I am able to fix this without the aid of a potion. It will sting for a few moments, then the pain should go away. Can I proceed?” Again, Harry nodded.  
Dumbledore again raised his wand. Silently, he waved the wand and pointed it at each of Harry’s affected areas. The sting arrived, but shortly after, vanished, and, within less than a minute, the swelling on Harry’s arm had disappeared.  
“There is no spell to remove the bruises, I am sorry, however, I will ensure you receive a bruise salve. They should disappear within a few hours of using the salve,” Dumbledore said to Harry. Harry smiled up at the man as he moved his arm up and down, testing its limits.  
“You may now put your nightshirt back on and return to the chair.” Harry did so, moving much faster than before.  
The Dursley’s were all speechless. They had never seen magic performed, especially not something so practical.  
“Harry, there is much we have to discuss, but I will first ask you this. Are you happy here?”  
Harry, trusting this Mister Dumbledore more and more by the second, shook his head.  
“Do you consider this place your home?” He continued. Again, Harry shook his head.  
“Are you safe here?” This time, Harry shrugged. While he often received smacks and other punishments, the worst that had ever happened was yesterday. Otherwise, he still had a roof over his head. Was he safe? He didn’t know.  
Dumbledore took a deep breath. He had so much to do. He needed to sort of this Peter mess, find a place for Harry to reside for the immediate future and figure out what to do about the Dursley’s.  
“Harry, could you please pack an overnight bag. I’ll speak to your relatives and meet you near the front door in three minutes.”  
Harry bolted from the room, scared if he waited any longer, Dumbledore would change his mind. He raced into his cupboard and grabbed a change of underwear, his best shirt (Dudley’s smallest cast-off) and his jeans with his homemade (rope) belt. He didn’t have an overnight bag, but did have a garbage bag, so he shoved it all into there and raced to the front door. 

  


Dumbledore surveyed the Durley’s over his glasses, one by one. Each looked away, unable to hold his gaze.  
“I am taking Harry tonight. I am locking you in this house for the next twelve hours. You will not be able to leave. You will not be able to communicate with anyone outside of this house. I will be back in twelve hours.” With that, he waved his wand, turned on his heal and walked out into the hallway. There, he found Harry holding a garbage bag. Dumbledore could feel his blood boil. Now what not the time to give in to the anger. When Harry was safe, then, he could, but not yet.  
“Now, Harry, we wizards do travel in rather strange, yet efficient ways. There is something called apparition, which is merely the process of disappearing from one place and appearing somewhere else. It is a rather unpleasant feeling, especially the first few times you travel this way, but it does get easier, and it is by far the most efficient. Would you mind if I apparited us somewhere else?”  
“Not at all, Sir.”  
“Please, hold onto me tightly. I will carry your bag, so to ensure we do not lose it on the way.”  
Harry grabbed Dumbledore around the waist, hugging him for dear life.  
“Three, Two, One,” and Dumbledore twisted slightly.  
He felt as he was being squeezed between two giant rocks, both pummelling him from all angles. When the feeling stopped, Harry opened his eyes, then quickly closed them again. The world was spinning, and he felt as if he might be sick.  
“Breathe, Harry. Take your time.”  
Slowly, Harry’s heart rate slowed and he felt confident enough to open his eyes.  
“Woah! Where are we?” He asked, noticing that he was definitely not in Privet Drive.  
“Walk with me, I’ll take us to our destination.”  
Together, they begun a slow walk.  
“I imagine you have many questions for me,” Dumbledore said, conversationally.  
Harry nodded, “Aunt Petunia says I’m not allowed to ask questions.”  
Closing his eyes briefly, and making a note of that statement, Dumbledore said, “well I love questions. Please, anything that’s on your mind.”  
Harry was silent for a moment.  
“What happened to my parents?” He asked, quietly.  
Dumbledore sighed. Of course, of all the questions he could’ve started with, he picks the most difficult. “That is a long and complicated story. One that delves deep into the history of the wizarding world. I will try my best to answer as thoroughly as I can.”  
Harry nodded, so Dumbledore continued, “Years ago, a student of mine, probably the most gifted I had the pleasure of teaching, went bad. He was a very strong wizard, with a lot of followers. He believed that any witch or wizard who was born to parents, who did not have magic, we call people without magic Muggles, were worthless, and he, along with his followers, took it upon themselves to wipe out the muggle-born population. Myself, and many others, would not stand for such racism. We would fight his followers. Your parents stood by my side throughout this. Your mother was a muggle-born, and your father a proud wizard from a family tree filled with magic, but he too, disagreed and faced against this bad wizard. The bad wizard became more powerful, more popular. He called himself Lord Voldemort, and people begun to fear not only him but his name also. Lord Voldemort and his followers brought terror to our world. Anyone who stood against him, was marked a traitor, and were attacked. We lost many great witches and wizards during this time.” Dumbledore stopped and took a breath, checking in on Harry. Harry himself was pale but looked resolute. He continued, “The war heated up. People were losing loved ones every day, and the wizarding world was plunged into darkness. Your parents had fought against him and survived more than once, and so he marked them as his personal target. On Halloween of 1981, Voldemort himself arrived at your parents home. Your parents fought back bravely, but they were caught unprepared and Voldemort killed them. He attempted to turn his wand to you Harry, but his killing curse rebounded from you to him. He has not been seen since that night. You were unharmed, expect for the scarred area on your forehead. It was on that night that you vanquished the most bad wizard in living memory.”  
Upon the conclusion of Dumbledore’s statement, Harry looked up at him.  
“How?” He asked.  
“How did you survive? I do not know for certain. I have theories, but this is not the time for such a discussion. I promise you, on your fourteenth birthday, I will discuss with you those theories in more depth.”  
Harry took a moment before nodding. He could accept that. Five years wasn’t that long to wait.  
“Why did you put me with the Dursely’s?”  
Dumbledore sighed again, “I am sorry Harry. I am sorry for the years of pain they have brought you. Upon your parents death, many magical households would have taken you in. I thought it best you grew up away from the fame. From the publicity. I thought your Aunt would love you. I am sorry.”  
Harry looked up at Dumbledore again. “It’s okay, I think I would have guessed the same. Please don’t make me go back.”  
“I promise.”  
They walked in silence for a few moments until “Fame?”  
Dumbledore chuckled. “Fame. Your name is famous in our world. You vanquished the darkness. You, at the tender age of one, did what no wizard had done before. You survived the killing curse. You are an icon to many.”  
Harry looked more shocked at this than any statement before. “I don’t even know what I did.”  
“Fame is fickle. People do not use logic when it comes to fame.”  
Harry seemed to accept that answer and they continued to walk, now making small talk, about Harry’s favourite colour (green), his favourite subject at school (art) and who his friends were (he didn’t have any). At the last answer, Dumbledore resolved to make this right.  
At last, they reached their destination. Harry looked up at the sight in awe.  
“Welcome, Harry, to Hogwarts.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dumbledore wasted no time getting Harry settled in. He had summoned a houseelf who set up a bed in a quiet room, away from the teachers and other prying eyes. Once settled in the temporary room, Perry, the houseelf, introduced himself to Harry. A bit wary of Perry, initially, Harry wasted no time getting to know his new companion. Perry was eighty-six, and one of Dumbledore’s personal elves. He quizzed Harry on his favourite foods then, with a snap of his fingers, disappeared. He reappeared two minutes later with a large tray in his arms and a mug of something floating next to him. He laid the tray on the side table of Harry’s bed, and then floated the mug next to it. Harry could not believe his eyes. On the tray was steak and kidney pie, sausages, mashed potatoes, pasta, fish and chips, chocolate brownies, cupcakes and, Harry’s favourite, treacle tart. The mug was filled with a warm cup of hot chocolate.   
“I can’t possibly eat all of this!” Harry exclaimed.   
Dumbledore chuckled. “Eat as much as you need, please, Harry. If you need me, Perry will come and get me. I have a lot to deal with, in a very short space of time, I’m sorry, so must leave you for now. I’ll come back and see you early tomorrow morning.”  
“Of course, thank you.”   
Dumbledore left the room with a wave. “He is always so busy, is Mister Albus,” Perry muttered, sitting down on one of the chairs left in the room.   
“Please, come and sit on the bed with me. Are you hungry?” Harry asked.  
Perry sat next to Harry on the bed, “no sir, not hungry. Thank you for the offer, though.”  
“I’ve never had anything to offer before,” Harry mumbled under his breath. Louder, he said “So, what do you do for Mister Dumbledore?”  
Perry puffed his chest out proudly. “I am his most senior personal elf. I help him with his most secretive and important things. I help him sort his mail and, on Sunday’s, I’m even allowed to sort his socks!”  
A bit dumfounded, Harry responded, “Oh wow, does he have a lot?”  
“Oh yes, Mister Albus has lots and lots of socks!”  
“Ah yes, I’m glad about that. Does he have a lot of important things to work on too?”  
“Not as much as he has socks, but yes, he does have a lot. He has to run this place!”  
“How many elves are here?”   
“Two hundred and seventy two! One hundred in the kitchens, they work shifts during the morning to cook and clean up breakfast, afternoon for lunch and the same for dinner. One hundred are for nighttime cleaning up after all the students and the rest of us are for the staff who work here. Only Mister Filch doesn’t have one, not even one, because he likes to do the work the proper way.”  
“Who’s Mister Filch?”  
“He’s the caretaker. He cleans up the halls.”   
“Big job,” Harry muttered.  
“Made bigger because he won’t have an elf!” Perry exclaimed.   
Harry continued to pepper Perry with questions. He finished what he could off the tray and begun to feel his eyelids get heavy.  
“I think I need to sleep now. I’m sorry, Perry. Will I see you again?”  
“Oh yes, I will wait with you until Mister Albus returns.”  
“Will you sleep?”  
“When Mister Albus returns,” Perry said, patiently.  
“Oh okay. Thank you for the food and that chat. You know a lot about the castle,” Harry said, and, unable to fight sleep any longer, let his head hit the pillow. His last thought before it all went black was that he hoped this was not all just a dream. 

Albus Dumbledore did not have the luxury of falling asleep. He had a years worth of work to complete in a ten hour window.   
Once in his office, he went straight to the floo. “Severus Snape,” he called through the fireplace.   
“Headmaster,” Snape’s head appeared in the flames.   
“Severus, I need a strong Veritaserum.”  
Snape blinked, looking questioningly at Dumbledore. “Might I ask why?”  
“You may, but I cannot answer. Do you have any?”  
“Yes, I will be with you in a moment” and with that, the flames died.  
While waiting on Snape’s arrival, Dumbledore pulled out the wooden ball from his pocket and placed it on his desk. Moving back to the floo, be firecalled Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Both stepped through the floo shortly after his contacting them. “What’s all this about?” Asked Fudge, grumpily as he tightened his dressing gown. “I’d like to know that too,” Amelia Bones said, eyeing Dumbledore suspiciously.   
“One moment please. Once Severus arrives, I will explain. Ah, he’s here now.”  
The staircase to Dumbledore’s office began spinning slowly and Severus Snape glided into the room. “Minister, Ma’am, Headmaster,” he said silkily. He held out the vial to Dumbledore who took it and placed it next to the ball on his desk.  
“Thank you Severus. I’ll see you in the morning,” Dumbledore dismissed Snape. Glaring daggers at Dumbledore, Snape exited the office.   
“Is that Veritaserum?” Amelia Bones asked, alarmed, “Who for?”  
“It is. Earlier this afternoon, I was made aware of a disturbance at the house where Harry Potter resides.” Fudge and Amelia both gasped.   
“Where is he?” Demanded Fudge.   
“In good time, I assure you, all will be explained. When I arrived at the residence, I found a man I have not seen in a very, very long time, stunned and bound, at the doorstep of Harry’s residence.”  
“Who?” Interrupted Fudge.  
“Peter Pettigrew.”  
“Impossible” “Peter? He’s dead!” They both exclaimed at once.  
“I can assure you, he is very much alive. In fact, he’s in this room.”  
Fudge jumped and began to nervously eye the office.  
“Albus, I haven’t time for your word games. Where is ‘Peter’” Amelia asked, putting Peter’s name in intreated commas with her fingers.  
“Please, I do not know what state he will transform to. Prepare your stunners,” Dumbledore said as he picked up the wooden ball. With a wave of his wand, he cancelled the transfiguration, and Peter’s still stunned body, fell to the floor with a loud thud.   
Silence descended on the office. Fudge was looking at Peter with a mixture of fear and revolution, while Amelia was studying his critically.   
“Are you quite sure it’s Peter?” She said, quietly.  
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.   
Fudge swore under his breath. “What do we do?” He asked.  
“I suggest we bind him to a chair and dose him with Veritaserum. Let’s see what he has to say.”  
The two nodded and with a wave of Dumbledore’s wand, Peter flew into the nearest chair and was bound with black ropes. Amelia pulled out Peter’s tongue and placed four drops of the potion on it.   
“Give it a minute, then we’ll wake him,” Dumbledore said.   
Fudge nodded weakly.   
A minute of silence followed, then Amelia raised her wand, “Ennerverate” she said, pointing it at Peter.   
Peter opened his eyes and quickly began attempting to transform. Dumbledore’s office had charms in place to stop animagus from entering the room as animals, or transforming once inside. Trapped, Peter began thinking of a story.   
Amelia took the lead in the questioning.   
“What is your name?” She demanded.  
Peter tried to stop, but, due to the Veritaserum, couldn’t, “Peter Pettigrew.”  
Fudge took a sharp intake of breath.   
“How are you alive?” Amelia asked Peter, ignoring Fudge’s stream of swearing.   
“I transformed into a rat when Sirius cornered me and slipped into the sewers after blowing up the street,” he said, against his will.  
“Sirius Black?”   
“Yes”  
“Can you explain to me what happened on the night of October 31, 1981?” Amelia asked.  
Peter tried to resist the compulsion, but the potion was stronger than his will.   
“James and Lily Potter had decided on using the Fidelius Charm to go into hiding from the Dark Lord. Sirius Black was meant to be the Secret Keeper, but he thought it would be too obvious. They decided nobody would suspect me, so I became their Secret Keeper. On the night of Halloween, I gave the Dark Lord their location. I sat nearby and, when I realised something had gone wrong, I left. I am an animagus, a rat, and I transformed and went into hiding. Sirius must’ve followed my scent and he began tracking me down around London. He corned me and I quickly realised I needed to make up a story so believable you would all be convinced I had died. I loudly stated he had killed Lily and James and blew up the street. I cut off my finger in the commotion and transformed again. This time, I knew Sirius would not follow me.”  
“What happened after that?” Amelia pressed.  
“I spent a few months in the sewers mostly, occasionally coming up to street level to find out any news I could. Once I realised the Dark Lord was gone and Sirius was in Azkaban, I allowed myself to be found by a wizarding family and I’ve been living there ever since.”  
“Who found you?”  
“Percy Weasley. He had no idea I was a human. He took me in as his pet rat.”  
“Why did you leave the Weasley’s?”  
“I heard Arthur Weasley mention that he had heard rumblings throughout certain people in the Ministry that You-Know-Who was not really gone for good. I believed I was the only one who knew where Harry Potter was hidden, and believed if I had killed him for my Lord I would be rewarded beyond measure.”  
Silence followed his last statement.   
Dumbledore looked sadly at Peter. The man known throughout the world as a hero.   
“I have enough to press charges, stupefy” Amelia said, stunning Peter.  
“What will you do?” Dumbledore asked.  
“I will take him to a holding cell at the Ministry. From there, we will have an expedited trail. As soon as tomorrow morning if I can manage it.”  
“Fudge?” Dumbledore asked.  
The man had become pale and weak at the knees. “Is this the best course of action, Amelia?” He asked, pleadingly.   
“What would you have me do?” She asked him, icily.  
“Could we not just have him kissed? Nobody needs to know. I could even get a Dementor from Azkaban now to do it.”  
“No, absolutely not,” Dumbledore said, “I will never have a Dementor cross these walls. And what of Sirius? He rots in Azkaban while the true killer is at large!”  
“And who’s fault is that!” Fudge exclaimed, “You and Barty decided to throw him away without a trail!”  
“A grave error! Not one that can be excused, especially in the light of this information!”  
“This would have come to light much sooner had you given an innocent man a fair trial!”  
“A mistake. I thought Sirius guilty. I allowed my grief to overpower my logic.”  
As Fudge went to respond, Amelia cut in, “Enough! Both of you. Fudge, agree to my method. We can paint this story in a favourable light. We can make it out like you deduced this. Just give this man a trial!”  
Fudge sat down on one of the empty chairs. “How can we spin this?”  
“You seem to have Rita Skeeter in your pocket. Use your resources!”  
After a long moment, Fudge nodded.  
Amelia turned to Dumbledore. “If you could please transfigure him into that ball again, I’ll transport him to one of our cells. I’ve got a lot of firecalls to make, so if you’ll excuse me.”  
Dumbledore did as asked and Amelia pocketed Peter. She nodded at each of them then flooed into the Ministry.   
Dumbledore and Fudge looked at each other. “What a fucking mess” Fudge muttered.  
“You don’t know the half of it.”  
Fudge paled again. “Tell me.”  
“I placed Harry with his only living relatives. I was able to lay blood wards there, and thought him safe.”  
“With blood wards, Pettigrew should not have been able to make it to the front door,” Fudge questioned.  
“He would not, had Harry called his relatives location, home. Alas, Harry had been mistreated for the longest time, and no longer thought of their house as a home.”  
“You never checked?”  
“Another oversight. It seems I have made quite a few when it comes to the Potters.”  
“Dumbledore! This cannot continue. Harry should have been made a ward of the Ministry. Plenty of families would have happily taken Harry in!”  
“How many would have been accused Death Eaters?”  
“All the guilty parties are in Azkaban.”  
“Not all Fudge. Do not lie to me.”  
Fudge stuck out his chin, “all of them.”  
“You are in denial. For tonight, Harry is in one of the rooms in the castle. Nobody but myself, yourself and my elf know. Tomorrow, we can discuss more permanent resolutions.”  
“And what of his relatives? They mistreated him, you say. How badly?”  
“Horribly. I’ve locked their house until tomorrow morning. I feel they should face a punishment for what they’ve done, but I cannot see how. We cannot try them in our courts, and in their world, we do not want to call attention to Harry.”  
“Quite a conundrum. In this instance, I will leave the decision up to you. Please, let me know what you are going to do. I, too, need to leave. Tomorrow morning will be hectic and I need to think.”  
Dumbledore nodded as Fudge flooed away. He sat down in his chair and leant his head on his desk. Fawkes took the moment of silence to let out a sorrowful tune. “I know, old friend, I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dumbledore apparated directly in front of the Dursley’s home. Without even bothering to knock, he walked straight through to the hallway.   
“Who’s there?” Called Vernon from the sitting room.   
Dumbledore walked the few steps to the sitting room and found the three in much the same way he had left them. Vernon and Petunia were still on the sofa, eyes red from tiredness. They had obviously not slept last night. Good, a vindictive part of Dumbledore thought. He turned his eyes to Dudley, who has asleep splayed out on the armchair, snoring loudly.   
“Shall we move this into the kitchen in order to not disturb your son?” Asked Dumbledore.  
“You’ve already disturbed him! Doing that freak stuff in front of him like that!” Vernon answered loudly.  
“We have much to discuss, and I’m short on time. If you wish to talk here, then by all means, we will stay.”  
“No, let’s go into the kitchen. He hardly slept last night,” said Petunia, looking lovingly at her son.   
Leading the way, as if it were his house, was Dumbledore. He sat at the head of the kitchen table, forcing Petunia and Vernon to sit next to him on either side.  
Dumbledore took a deep breath. He had spent the better part of six hours, attempting to come up with some form of resolution to this mess.   
“I have wracked my brain, trying to determine why or how someone could treat their child nephew the way you both have. I cannot understand. Please, help me understand.”  
“He’s a freak. Like my sister was. Nothing good came from her and nothing good will come from him. He deserves nothing from me, from us!” Petunia spat.   
Dumbledore nodded, anger flaring in his eyes.   
“I have two options for you. Think very carefully about which one you choose. You both have to agree otherwise, I will decide for you.”  
“What are they?” Petunia asked, as Vernon said “What do you mean?”  
“I mean, Vernon, that I will be the one handing out your punishment.”  
“Now see here! Punishment for what? The brat was fed, watered, washed!”  
“Harry was neglected and abused, both physically and verbally. You will be punished!”  
Vernon cowered at the look on Dumbledore’s face.   
“You have two choices. Choose quickly. One, I will wipe your memories of everything magical, ever. Petunia, this means your sister also. You will remember nothing of this conversation, nor anything about Harry. Two, you will remember everything, but any negative thought regarding Harry causes a physical pain, the same pain he felt on his last night here. The pain will last a minute longer each time you have that thought. Both of these options apply also to your son. Think carefully, I will leave you for ten minutes. After the time is up, you will need to give me your decision.”  
With that, Dumbledore rose and left the kitchen, heading back into the sitting room. Dudley was awake.   
“You’re back.”  
“Yes Dudley, I’m back. I’m afraid I cannot stay long.”  
“That’s okay, Mum and Dad seem to hate you anyway.”  
“But you do not?”  
“Nah, I think you’re pretty cool. You’re like the final boss of a video game.”  
“Thank you. I’ve never been referred to like that.”  
Dudley smiled at him, then his smile dropped from his face.  
“Are you okay, Dudley?” Dumbledore asked, reminding himself that the sins of the father are not always the sins of the son.  
Dudley shook his head. “I wanna be a wizard.”  
Dumbledore sighed. He remembered Petunia’s letter so long ago that held the same sentiment.   
“I wish I could make you a wizard, Dudley. But it doesn’t work like that. People are either born with magic, or they’re not. Why do you want to be a wizard?”  
“Those spells you did on Harry last night were amazing! Mum and Dad didn’t think they were, but that was insane! It was like a health potion or something on GameBoy!”  
“Magic can do wonderful things, it can also do great damage. It is how one chooses to wield the magic that creates wonders.”  
“That was great though! Can Harry do that stuff?”  
“Not yet, many years of training will unlock your cousin’s full potential. It takes great discipline to learn anything in life, magic included.”  
Dudley’s face screwed up at the word discipline.   
“Do you not enjoy working hard, Dudley?”  
“No. If I can get someone else to do it for me, why wouldn’t I?”   
“Because you’ll never learn. Learning is knowledge. And knowledge is one type of magic we all can achieve.”  
“So if I know things I can be a wizard?” Dudley asked, confused.  
“No, you misunderstand. Knowledge unlocks a magic inside all of us. Life is all about learning. Everyday, I learn something new.”  
“You must know a lot then!”  
“Indeed, in my long life I’ve been blessed to learn a great many things.”  
“Can you teach me anything?” Dudley asked, sitting on the seat of the armchair.   
“I can, of course. Firstly, your health. While I have performed no magic on you, I can sense you are unhealthy. You are, of course, a growing boy, who will no doubt grow to be as strong as your father. However, your health needs work. I recommend a diet change in order to unlock your full health potential.”  
Dudley screwed up his face, “I hate healthy foods!”   
“Do you enjoy feeling unhealthy?”  
“No! It’s easier, is all.”  
“I recommend working towards a diet plan that you enjoy, perhaps with your school nurse. I’m sure your mother would be happy enough to oblige should you request it.”  
“Could do, I suppose. What else can you teach me?”  
Dumbledore considered the question for a moment.   
“To think independently. I understand, your parents are your guide through life. But it is okay to question what they say and do. In fact, it is healthy. I run a school of over a hundred students, and I encourage them to ask and question when told something. I encourage you to do the same.”  
Dudley looked thoughtfully at him. “I’ll think about it. Can you do magic on me?”  
Dumbledore looked amused, “like what?”  
“Can I fly?”  
“Of course. Allow me, Wingardium Leviosa,” he said, with the usual swish and flick. Dudley rose into the air, whooping and laughing. Dumbledore moved him around to the other side of the sitting room and placed him on the sofa.  
“THAT WAS AMAZING!” He yelled, loud enough to bring Vernon and Petunia back into the room.   
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Vernon bellowed, raising his fist toward Dumbledore.  
“DAD! HE FLEW ME AROUND THE ROOM!”  
Vernon turned an ugly shade of purple as Petunia placed her arm on his shoulder.   
“I assume you’ve decided,” Dumbledore said, the ice back in his voice.  
“Yes, option one, if you wouldn’t mind. Make it quick.”  
Dumbledore looked at Petunia sadly. “You wish to forget her?”  
Petunia wiped away a tear. “Yes,” she whispered.   
“Dad, Mum, what’s going on?”  
“Dumbledore is going to perform a quick spell on all of us, then he’s going to leave and never, ever come back.”  
The tone in his mother’s voice caused Dudley to shrink into the sofa. “Okay,” he said, softly.  
“If you’re ready, could you please join your son on the sofa.”  
The three Dursley’s sat uncomfortably on the sofa, Petunia squished between the two larger people.  
“Close your eyes, and do not open them for one minute.”  
They did so. Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it in front of each of their faces in turn. He stepped back, looked again at the two adults in disgust, then apparated away. I’m sorry Lily, he thought to himself, as he arrived back at Hogsmede. He had left his conversation with Dudley inside his mind, altering it so as to not show who he was talking to. Otherwise, every and any aspect of magic was forgotten by anyone with the surname Dursley.

“Ah, Harry, I see you’re awake,” Dumbledore said as he entered Harry’s makeshift bedroom, “Thank you Perry, I’ll take Harry from here.” Perry bowed low and, with a grateful smile at Dumbledore, apparated away.   
“Perry is so smart! He knows so much about magic,” Harry exclaimed excitedly.   
Dumbledore smiled at Harry, “were you asking him many questions?”  
“Loads. He’s funny too. Bit grumpy in the mornings though.”  
Again, Dumbledore smiled, his spirits rising as he spent time with Harry.   
“How do you feel about a walk around Hogwarts? I can show you some key areas, and we may even bump in to some of your future professors?”  
Harry jumped up eagerly. “Yes please!”  
Noticing Harry’s raggedy clothes, Dumbledore waved his wand at Harry.   
“Wicked,” said Harry, looking down at his now neat ensemble. Instead of the stretched and worn grey t-shirt and shorts, he was now standing in blue jeans and a white and black button up shirt.   
The two walked in silence for a few moments, while Dumbledore collected his thoughts. He had no idea how to explain to Harry what was going to happen this morning.   
“Mister Dumbledore, where does this go?” Harry asked, pointing out the spiral staircase that led to the astronomy tower. Dumbledore explained, and Harry nodded, looking more and more excited about attending Hogwarts than ever before.  
“Harry, today I have an important court case to sit in on, at our Ministry of Magic. Would you care to join me?”  
“Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked, confused.  
“Sort of like Westminster.”  
“Oh, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”  
Now that Harry was coming along, Dumbledore’s next hope was that Arthur Weasley would be at work today. If he was, Harry could sit in with Arthur, and Dumbledore would be able to buy more time to determine what to do with Harry. If he wasn’t, he would have to find somebody else trustworthy.  
The two continued their tour of Hogwarts, with Dumbledore pointing out important landmarks such as the Great Hall and the Prefects bathroom. Harry nearly fainted when a ghost came through the wall, but relaxed once Dumbledore introduced them.  
“This is the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw house.”  
“Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” Harry said, remembering his manners at the last minute.  
The Grey Lady merely studied Harry for a moment, before continuing on her way.   
Explaining the Hogwarts ghosts and Peeves took the better part of twenty minutes, as Harry kept interrupting with questions. Finally, they arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.  
“Severus,” Dumbledore said, seeing Snape standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.  
“Albus,” Snape said, bowing his head slightly, “who is..” his voice drifted off as Harry made eye contact with him.  
“Severus, please meet Mister Potter. Harry, this is Professor Snape, he will be your potions instructor in a few years.”  
“Pleased to meet you, Sir,” Harry said, holding out his hand.  
Without a word, Snape turned on his heels and stalked off down the corridor, away from Harry and Dumbledore.  
“Sorry about Severus, he can be quite moody in the mornings.”  
Harry wasn’t about to challenge Dumbledore, but something told him Dumbledore was keeping something from him. Snape seemed fine until he looked at Harry. Resolving to determine why the professor ran off on him, Harry kept silent.  
“We’ll head up to my office and floo to the Ministry. I’ll show you how it’s done. Raspberry drops!”  
“Raspberry drops?” Harry asked, but, before Dumbledore could answer, the gargoyle begun spinning upwards, revealing a staircase.   
“This way,” said Dumbledore, as he stepped onto the staircase.


End file.
